


Time to Kill

by DarylDixonGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Grinding, Just So We're Clear, M/M, Rickyl only briefly mentioned, Slight Canon-Divergence, This is an Aarick story, abandoned vehicle screwaroundery, aggressively top!rick, humping, slightly less aggressively top!aaron, spit, unrequited Rickyl too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonGrimes/pseuds/DarylDixonGrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the herd moves through, Aaron wants to go to D.C. to see what's there and potentially find more survivors. Rick decides he has to be the one to go with him so he can feel out any potential newcomers. When the two men are forced to hole up in an abandoned truck, they find themselves with a little too much time on their hands. How ever will they fill it?</p><p>AKA When two horny tops meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to Kill

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly diverts from canon because I started writing it a while back. And because Eric and Aaron aren't together (yet?). And because I pretend the bullshit Jessie stuff didn't happen because I refuse.

The old delivery truck was wedged in a dead-end alley so narrow that you couldn't even get the doors of the things open. To get inside, one had to crawl through the back and slip in through an obviously MacGyvered window separating the cab from the rest of the truck.  
  
Rick and Aaron hadn't even bothered crawling through. They had peered in just long enough to plan their escape, which involved breaking the front window and hauling ass to a nearby fire escape. But with back door closed and secured against the walkers in the alley and a quickly setting autumn sun, they'd decided to hunker down for the night in the only safe place they'd found so far.  
  
“Sorry I didn't listen to you,” Aaron said with a nervous laugh, one that Rick barely heard over the dead banging on the truck. “You were right. This was a stupid idea.”

After they cleared the herd out, their numbers in Alexandria had shrunk severely. Aaron had the idea to make the trek to D.C., to see what was out there and if they could scout out some more people, maybe even another good group of survivors like Rick's own.

“Yeah,” Rick said with an amused smile. “Yeah, it was.”  
  
“Yet here you are,” Aaron said with a small grunt as he laid himself down on the floor of the truck, pulling his pack up under his head.  
  
“Here I am,” Rick agreed with a sideways nod before laying down himself. He had argued vehemently against the idea. They'd lost enough without putting one of their best at risk. Their focus needed to be on home, on fortification, on healing. But when it became clear the mission was happening no matter what he said (Jesus, how were they still not fucking listening to him?), he'd decided it had to be him. If there was any potential that Aaron might be bringing home new people, Rick damn well wanted to know them before they were inside the gate.  
  
“Wish they'd stop,” Aaron said, nodding toward the rolling door. The walkers had been banging against the thing constantly since they shut it on them. “Not that I'm tired right now anyhow.”  
  
“Yeah, well that's the dead for you,” Rick said. “Bunch of inconsiderate bastards.”  
  
The recruiter sat back up and dug around in his pack, shifting an Oregon license plate out of the way.   
  
“I guess I need to start putting some books in here,” he said. “Maybe a crossword.”  
  
“We could eat,” Rick suggested, sitting back up too. “That'll kill at least ten minutes.”  
  
“Don't suppose you have anything you'll trade me for apple sauce,” Aaron said, holding out the jar. “Olivia knew I didn't like it, but...”  
  
But Olivia's dead and someone else does the rationing now.  
  
“Canned peaches,” Rick said, holding them up. He'd been thinking about them all day, about how the syrupy juice would feel bursting his mouth, cool and sweet sliding across his tongue.  
  
But he could do without. He more than knew how. They all did.  
  
“Always knew you were a good man, Rick,” Aaron joked, taking the peaches from him and digging out a can opener. Rick ate a can of pork-n-beans followed up by the apple sauce. It wasn't terrible, all things considered.  
  
“Twelve,” Aaron said, checking his watch.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You said it'd kill ten minutes. We managed to stretch it to a full twelve.”  
  
Rick checked his own wrist. Three hours minimum until he knew he'd actually be tired. Fantastic. Hopefully the walkers would clear out by then so they could actually get some sleep. As though he sensed what Rick was thinking, Aaron fidgeted and sighed.  
  
“So...” he said, leaning back against the wall of the truck. “Fuck, marry, kill: Deanna, Daryl, Carol.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Rick said.  
  
“I'm not just going to sit here and stare at you until bedtime, Rick.” Aaron slid one leg under the other. “Then again, I suppose there are worse things to look at.”  
  
Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose, ignoring the comment and the little bit of heat it brought to his cheeks.  
  
“Kill Deanna, I guess. She's not family, not as much as Daryl and Carol at least.”  
  
“It's okay. I'd probably kill her too given those options.”  
  
“Marry Carol. Fucking her would be like fucking my sister, so… Guess we'd have one of _those_ marriages, but she'd be good for Judith and she can cook, which is always nice. And God help anyone who ever tried to harm our family.”  
  
“Fuck Daryl then?”  
  
Rick cleared his throat uncomfortably. He'd tried. God, had he tried. Truth be told, Rick would much rather marry AND fuck Daryl, but when he'd bared his heart to him, all he'd gotten back was awkward silence, avoidance, and finally the inevitable moment when (both of them covered in walker blood and panting) Daryl finally confessed his true feelings too. Any attempt Daryl had ever made at sex had left him feeling queasy. Worse still for Rick, he confided he'd never fallen in love either, didn't think he was even capable of feeling it like that. He loved him, sure, but not how Rick wanted him to.  
  
Of course Daryl being Daryl, he'd offered Rick his body if he really needed it, but it just didn't feel right to do that to him. So Rick had settled for fantasy instead, for picturing Daryl in quiet moments alone in bed at night, in the shower, in a delivery truck in an alley with another man.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Rick shifted on the floor, trying to ignore the way the heat in his body had started migrating south. There was the usual image his brain supplied—Daryl softly moaning his name, letting Rick enter him, letting Rick worship him in a ritual of writhing and sweat.  
  
“Think we need a different game, Aaron,” Rick said, trying to slyly palm over his crotch, more in admonishment of it than in any attempt to seek pleasure. Aaron's eyes went right to the motion before he pretended not to notice, casually uncrossing and recrossing his legs.  
  
“Sorry,” Aaron said. “I didn't realize…” He picked an invisible piece of lint off his pant leg. “Doesn't matter. For the record though, I'd fuck Carol. She's not exactly my type, but something tells me she'd make it worthwhile.”  
  
Rick laughed quietly, more of a puff of air than an audible sound. He had to hand it to Aaron. The guy had a knack for recognizing tension and breaking it quickly.  
  
“Does this mean we can gossip about men at home then? Or is it just….”  
  
“Not many men left at home," Rick said, "not any worth gossiping about at least, but you can try so long as it doesn't leave the truck.”  
  
“Glenn isn't too bad,” Aaron said. Rick cringed.  
  
“Glenn's like Carol. It'd be like fucking my brother.”  
  
“I never said you had to fuck him,” Aaron said. “I said he wasn't bad-looking.”  
  
“Why don't we stick to people I didn't come through the gates with?”  
  
Aaron shrugged and went quiet a few seconds, clearly trying to go through his mental catalog of Alexandrians.  
  
“How about Heath?” Aaron asked.  
  
“He's got a nice face. One of those guys you make an exception for when it comes to the word 'pretty.' Guess I'd go there if if I needed somewhere to go and it was an option.”  
  
“Don't think either of us would go for Tobin.”  
  
“Think you're right,” Rick agreed with an amused smile. “Can't believe you haven't said the most obvious one yet.”  
  
“Who's that?”  
  
“Spencer. Haven't gone a day since we got there without hearing someone giggling over him.”

“Think he might be too handsome,” Aaron said. “If that makes any sense at all.”  
  
“It does, yes,” Rick said. He liked imperfections. Ruggedness. And there was Daryl's face again. The slight asymmetry from the motorcycle accident when he was younger. The moles. The bags under his eyes that faded with sleep but still never quite went away. The facial hair that grew in patchy and weird in a way that made Rick's heart ache with longing.  
  
Every feature contorted with agonizing pleasure. His name moaned out through gritted teeth buried under weather-chapped lips.  
  
Rick couldn't halt the shudder of lust that flowed down his spine. He shook his head, willing it away. But the damage was done, and his old black jeans were too tight again for the first time since before the food supply had started to dwindle. He tried shifting, tried thinking of walkers, tried more not-so-subtle palming, but none of it was enough to quell the heat.

“You can take care of it if you want to,” Aaron said casually.  
  
“What?”  
  
“We don't really have much else to do.”  
  
And Rick had to admit that it had been a while. And hell, a while was a damn understatement if there ever was one. A while since the farm and the last time Lori had let him touch her. A while since he'd had the luxury of time to jerk off. Hard enough to do it with two kids. Even harder with a dying world insisting on aiming every single last hell-vomit it had to offer right in his direction.  
  
“Fuck it,” Rick said. “You don't mind?” He'd given up on modesty ages ago, and hell, Aaron was right. They had jack-all else to do for the next few hours.  
  
“Nope,” Aaron said. “If you don't.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“It'll definitely help pass the time.”  
  
“I didn't mean...”  
  
“I know what you meant, Rick,” Aaron said, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping his hand into his pants. Rick watched until the moment the younger man's eyes fluttered at the sensation, and then he forced himself to look away, focusing instead on unbuttoning his own jeans. He tried to work himself inside the fabric like Aaron was for privacy's sake, but his jeans were just too tight to allow it, so he pulled himself free, sighing in relief when he did it. Fuck privacy anyway.  
  
They didn't speak again for a while. Rick tuned out the sound of the walkers outside and focused on his cock, on the way it looked sliding between his palm and fingers, on the pre-cum streaking down hard flesh, on the darkened head emerging from the semi-circle created by his fist. He focused on his breathing, on the rustling of his clothes. And he tried his damnedest to ignore the other man in the truck.  
  
“Ah, fuck,” Aaron whispered softly. Rick's eyes flicked up before he could even think to stop them. The recruiter had let his head roll back against the side of the truck, and Rick raked his eyes down the other man's body, letting himself observe the way the fabric of the front of his jeans shifted up and down with each rub. Something in the back of Rick's mind told him he wasn't supposed to be watching, but his brain didn't quite communicate that information to his hand, which quickly picked up on the pace of Aaron's movements and matched it stroke-for-stroke.  
  
“Enjoying the show, Rick?”  
  
The former deputy froze and looked back up at Aaron's face.  
  
“I… I wasn...was…Sorry.”  
  
“It's alright,” Aaron said, his hand still moving, stroking slow. “Wouldn't have caught you if I hadn't been looking too.”  
  
Rick stared at the other man, locking his blue eyes on a matching set, the movement of Aaron's arm visible in the periphery. He wasn't bad. A nice head of thick, wavy hair. Stubble from a few days out on the road darkening his chin. And those eyes. Rick had no idea the usual sweetness in those eyes could shift into something so fierce and piercing and…  
  
The pounding of the walkers outside shifted into a drum beat, an exotic cadence that pounded in time with Rick's heart until it blended together in his ears. Thump, thump, thump, and he was sure he could hear the whooshing of the heaving breaths entering and leaving his chest. He could remember the exact moment he'd last felt like that. Hiding in a closet with Carl, Judith in one arm and an orphaned Sam desperately clinging to the other. It was the way he felt before he gave himself over to instinct, before he did whatever he needed to.

And right then, he needed to cum. All he had to do was let go.  
  
Aaron broke eye contact first, both blue orbs falling shut while his jaw slacked open to allow a quiet groan to slip past his lips. And that was all it took to destroy Rick's self-control. The former deputy lunged at him across the truck like a feral cat, pushing him over onto his back and pinning him down. Aaron was pliant, letting him do it, laughing softly all the way down, his smile dazzling even in the dim light.  
  
With a growl, Rick shifted his hips, lining up his erection with Aaron's denim-clad one and rutting hard against the other man.  
  
“This what you wanted?” Rick asked, rocking down with more force.  
  
“Me?” Aaron asked. “How about you? Sitting over there watching.”

Rick's response was another low growl, followed by an even harder series of hip rolls, rocking Aaron's body down into the floor while his cock rubbed against the stiffness in his blue jeans.  
  
“Fuck, that feels good,” Aaron said. He wrapped his hands around Rick's waist and pulled him even harder, and then with a smirk, he flipped, sending Rick toppling over onto his back so he could scramble up on top. The younger man rocked his hips down.  
  
Rick groaned once, and then he whirled them back over, making a show of slamming Aaron's wrists down onto the bed of the truck, gripping them tightly. He smiled and continued bucking.  
  
“Have a feeling this can't go much further unless one of us is willing to compromise on some things,” Rick said, groaning a little at a particularly delicious slide down Aaron's clothed length. The other man's jeans were soiled now, covered in spots of precum soaking through from both sides.  
  
“It could go just a little further.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Aaron forced his wrists out of Rick's control and rolled them over again, this time taking advantage of the top position long enough to free himself from his pants. He leaned down and took his and Rick's erections with both hands, squeezing them together and rolling his hips.  
  
“Shit,” Rick hissed, head flopping back onto the floor of the truck with a metallic thump. “Keep going, and I might let you stay up there.”  
  
“Here,” Aaron said, grabbing Rick's hand and using it to replace one of his own. Rick temporarily drew it back, licking a trail of slick down it before adding it back into the mix, writhing up into the action. Aaron copied him and then leaned over, letting more saliva drip from his lips right down between where their lengths pressed together, the friction of their movements working it down between them.  
  
“Christ,” Rick said, bucking into the little pocket of wet heat they'd created together. Aaron answered him with a squeeze that made their breathing hitch in their lungs, their exhales coming out as low groans.  
  
It went on like that for a while, the little bangs and thumps of their sordid grind session fading into the knocks and thuds from the creatures outside. Aaron kept things slick, dribbling down spit whenever things got too dry. All the while, their hands squeezed closer and closer to each other's, tightening the pressure on their erections until Rick was sure he was going to black out.  
  
“If you don't want cum on that shirt, you better get off me.”  
  
“It would be a lot more practical if we didn't get cum all over each other, wouldn't it?” Aaron asked, struggling to get the words out. “But would it be as fun?”  
  
Rick let out a carnal throaty growl at that, flipping them both over for the final time, grabbing their cocks again and wildly thrusting. Another growl and he came, wet streaks catching on the plaid covering Aaron's tummy. The younger man reached down and half-wrapped his hand over his, holding Rick there and writhing, his lips pulled into his mouth in concentration. In anticipation.  
  
“C'mon,” Rick said, staring down between them. “I wanna see you do it. I wanna see you cum.”  
  
Aaron arched his hips up one, two, three times more, and then he let out a heated, broken groan, his cock pulsing out his orgasm and painting it across the fronts of both their shirts. Rick rolled off of him with a dull thump, and they both went limp and boneless on the floor.

“God that was fantastic,” Aaron said. “Would've only been better if…”  
  
“If one of us didn't mind taking,” Rick said, folding his arms up under his head, his pants still hanging open.  
  
“You could change your mind,” Aaron suggested. “Still plenty of time to kill.”  
  
“Don't count on it.”  
  
“Had to try.” Aaron reached for his backpack and pulled it over, tucking it up under his head. “But I wouldn't mind doing that again.”

“Mhm,” Rick said, arching his back and stretching out his muscles, his spine crackling a little before he settled again.

“Would you?” Aaron asked.   
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Would you like to do it again?”

Rick let his head loll over, taking in the sight of Aaron, who was looking at him intently with his head propped on his backpack, his ordinarily put-together appearance fuck-ruffled and covered in their cum.  
  
“Well, it's like you said. There isn't much else to do." Rick checked his watch again.  
  
Two and a half hours until he'd likely be sleepy. Pity it wasn't more. 


End file.
